Saturday, May 17, 2014

"Acceptable Losses"

“Any
Starfleet vessel in range, come in. This is the U.S.S. Andromeda—do you copy?”

The
garbled transmission was desperate. On the main viewscreen, the static-charged
image of the Andromeda’s bridge and its commanding officer, Captain George
Ramsey, hissed and popped.

“This is Captain Dominic DeLuca of the starship Messenger.” Deep concern creased crossed the brow of Messenger’s commanding officer as he sat
in the Intrepid-class starship’s command chair—he knew George Ramsey. “George,
we can barely read you!”

Turning
to look over his shoulder, he regarded the Roylan manning the operations
console. “Can you clear up that static, Sully?”

With his usual aplomb, Lt. Sullek’s small hands flew over the controls. He
shook his head in frustration. “The signal is breaking up at the source,
Captain. My efforts to boost the gain have not been successful,” the lieutenant
added.

The image cleared up enough briefly enough for the bridge crew to see Captain
Ramsey grimace in pain. His message continued to fade in and out. “Messenger,” he pleaded, “… need
assistance. Some kind of dis… aboard… My people… dying. Can you respond?”

“Dominic, wait!” Ramsey gasped suddenly, painfully, his eyes staring straight
ahead at DeLuca. “Keep… keep your distance. Warn… warn Star—” And the image
went black before the view returned to a starfield.

“What happened?” DeLuca demanded, whirling around to face Sully.

“The signal’s just … gone, sir.”

“Ensign Tucker,” the captain said, looking back toward the front of the bridge
at his helm officer, “lay in a course for the Andromeda’s last known position.”

“Captain, are you alright?” the ship’s counselor asked as Charlaine Tucker was
acknowledging his order.

DeLuca
turned slowly to look over at the Muus-an sitting on the bench seat to his
right. Generally she referred to all the
crew by their given names rather than their rank—Amalys claimed it was a habit
borne of her upbringing, because the Muus-a always called each other by name.
He was the only one she ever addressed by rank, and then only in front of other
people, which she had further explained was in deference to his position as
commanding officer of the ship. Whenever they were alone, however, he got the
same first-name treatment as everyone else.

It
was one of the habits the somewhat mysterious elf-like woman had that he didn’t
really mind; he agreed that calling a person by their name, in her profession,
brought things to a more personal rather than professional level, and often
made her job easier when her patients could relate to her. What he still hadn’t
gotten used to—even after knowing her for just over a year—was her uncanny ability to sense when
he was uneasy.

And
right now, he was definitely feeling uneasy.

“George
Ramsey,” he began slowly, “is an old Academy classmate of mine. He helped me
through Basic Weapons and I helped him with his Astrophysics papers.”

“He was a friend and you’re worried about him,” Amalys Tyr’lylth observed.

“Course laid in, Captain,” Ensign Tucker called out.

Without acknowledging Amalys’ words, DeLuca returned his attention to the
matter at hand. “Maximum warp,” he said to Tucker. “Passiamo.”

*****

Captain’s log, Stardate 53551.1.

The Messenger is responding to a distress signal from the
starship Andromeda while en route to Cardassian space. Captain Ramsey’s signal
also appeared to contain a warning. A warning about what, I’m not exactly sure…

*****

“ETA to the Andromeda, two minutes,” Tucker announced from the helm.

“Take us to half-impulse,” DeLuca said, standing as he watched the streaking
stars become stationary on the main viewer.

“Yellow alert,” Lieutenant Commander Jaarid announced as he stood from the
first officer’s seat and moved to stand on DeLuca’s left, and the alert panels
around the bridge began to flash yellow a moment later.

DeLuca placed a hand on the railing separating the command level from the helm
level of his bridge. “Let’s see what’s out here. Lieutenant Hollen, scan for
any other ships in the area. Be alert for anything that might reflect a cloak
distortion.”

”Aye, Captain.” Lt. Yvala Hollen’s scans took only moments. The Trill was a
thorough a tactical officer, and if there was a hostile craft about she would
find it. Her meticulous efforts, however, proved otherwise. “Sensors show
nothing else in the immediate vicinity, Captain. We’re as alone as a shadow in
the dark.”

Ahead of them, the Andromeda drifted
eerily in space. The largest of Starfleet’s cadre of vessels, the
Sovereign-class starship appeared to be strangely lifeless with her blinking
marker lights the only sign of any activity.

“Try hailing them,” Jaarid ordered.

“No response, Commander,” Sully replied.

“There’s no evidence that she was in a fight,” Lt. Tyrone Ja-Nareth, Messenger’s senior science officer, said
as he was intently studying his own set of sensor scans.

“And the life pods appear to be in place,” DeLuca agreed with him. “Why are
they so quiet?”

“Can’t say. Radiation levels are nominal,” Ja-Nareth said with a shrug.

“No weapons signatures detected, either sir,” Hollen piped in.

“Any lifesigns?”

“I’m getting some very weak readings from over there,” Sully reported. “Whatever
happened has incapacitated the entire crew.”

DeLuca turned to look at him. “Warp plasma trails?”

The Roylan consulted his console. “No, sir. Nothing but our own and Andromeda’s.”

“Do you want me to move in for a closer look, Captain?” Tucker asked, turning
to look at him as she did so.

DeLuca stroked his chin in contemplation. “Ramsey was trying to warn us. He
said for us to keep our distance. I’ve never known him to tell anyone to shrink
from a challenge.”

“Smart is safer than dead,” suggested the gray-skinned R’naari standing to
DeLuca’s left.

DeLuca nodded at this suggestion. “Close to a distance of one thousand kilometers,
Charlie. That should give us a decent buffer.”

“Aye, sir,” the pilot replied, turning back to the helm to input the commands.

Turning
to his first officer, DeLuca said, “Assemble an away team. Get over there and
see if you can find out just what the hell happened.”

Jaarid
nodded resolutely, his longer-than-regulation black hair falling over his
forehead as he did so, his silver eyes taking on a resolute expression.
“Lieutenant Hollen, Lieutenant Ja-Nareth, I desire you would accompany me,” the
younger man said, turning and moving quickly toward the turbolift.

DeLuca
watched as the two officers left their stations and joined the XO in the
turbolift, then turned his eyes back to the viewscreen, where the Andromeda
floated in her eerie silence. He sensed Amalys stepping up beside him and
glanced over at her, but all she did was look back, then turn her attention to
the viewscreen before them.

*****

The away team materialized on the bridge of the Andromeda not quite ten minutes after their captain had given the
order to investigate the ship. Jaarid and Hollen immediately swept the command
center with their weapons. Ja-Nareth and Maureen Killian—Messenger’s Chief Medical Officer—took
out their tricorders and began scanning their surroundings, while Ensign S’Lene
from Engineering walked across the bridge to the engineering stations. The room
was unnaturally empty and the only sounds were the intermittent chirping and
beeping of the unmanned consoles.

At Dr. Killian’s request, each member of the away team was wearing a personal sterilization
field generator. It was a device that emitted an invisible
forcefield around the wearer of the armband, and had proven successful on many
occasions to prevent contamination from radiation and airborne pathogens.
Killian had asked (insisted, really) that each member of the team wear one as
they had not yet determined whether or not the atmosphere within the Andromeda was contaminated.

“The ship is functioning within established parameters, Commander,” S’Lene
reported, “although the communications systems, both intraship and subspace,
are completely inoperable and without any apparent sign of a malfunction. All
of the life-support functions appear to be nominal as well.”

“Radiation levels, Doctor?” Jaarid asked.

Killian looked at her tricorder display. “According to my readings, the air
shows no signs of contamination. Whatever happened here, it doesn’t appear to
be an airborne contagion.”

The R’naari turned to their science officer. “Mr. Ja-Nareth?”

Ja-Nareth,
who had mirrored S’Lene and gone to the science stations to examine one of the
consoles there, turned his bright blue eyes to the first officer, saying,
“Ensign S’Lene and Dr. K are right, we’re all safe to breathe the air. I’ve no
records here of any environmental hazards on the ship in the last several months.”

“I
desire a deck-by-scan scan of this ship,” Jaarid ordered with a nod. “S’Lene, I
would have you down in Engineering performing a full Level One diagnostic. Let
us be sure that everything is really functioning as it is supposed to be.”

The young Vulcan nodded and moved to leave the bridge.

“Ty, relay yourself to Astrometrics and get me a full rundown of the Andromeda’s flight path for the last
week,” the XO went on, addressing his science officer.

“Yes, sir,” the older man said, jogging after S’Lene, who was already holding
the turbolift for him.

“Hollen, take yourself to the security center and review all of their security
logs, same time frame. Dr. Killian, check out Sickbay. Captain Ramsey said that
his people were dying. Maybe there’s a record about it down there. I shall remain here, checking out the ship’s logs.”

“Yes, Commander,” the doctor answered, and she joined the Trill in another
lift.

*****

The astrometrics laboratory was as empty as the rest of the ship appeared to be.
Ja-Nareth immediately went over to the main console and after a few minutes of
scanning the logs, he came to the conclusion that nothing whatsoever was wrong
with the lab or its equipment, and there had been no abnormal findings in the
last ninety-six hours. He opened up his tricorder and laid it down on the
console so that he could interface it with the Astrometrics computer system and
download the flight plan information.

“Is there something wrong with my console?” a feminine voice asked him from
behind.

The Efrosian spun around to see a beautiful Boslic woman wearing a Starfleet
science uniform. She languidly brushed a strand of magenta hair away from her
temple.

“Where
did you come from?” he asked her with surprise.

Ignoring him, she glided forward with a sleek, sensual gait. “I was beginning
to think that I was the only one left on the ship.”

“Who are you?” Ja-Nareth asked her.

“Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first?” she asked him with a seductive smile.
“You did come onto my ship uninvited.”

Gently and deliberately, she took his hand into hers, which was incredibly soft
and warm. Ja-Nareth felt an instantaneous rush of tranquility and found himself
feeling completely at ease, even comforted, by her touch.

“You’re part of the crew?” he asked her, his voice taking on a dreamy quality.

“Silly Tyrone…” She stroked his cheek gently with her opposite hand and he
closed his eyes. There was calm at the center of his soul. “So many questions.
Don’t I make you feel good?”

”Yes,” he whispered with a sigh. “I feel so good.”

“But, of course, you do,” the woman replied sweetly. “Now be a dear and give me
your DNA.”

*****

Jaarid
stood quietly on the bridge of the Andromeda
for a moment, trying to get a grasp of why Captain Ramsey’s message had been so
distraught. What could have gone wrong? The ship was operating normally and
there wasn’t the slightest indication of a battle. Sitting down in the first
officer’s chair, he brought up the most recent ship’s log entries. Since ship’s
logs were considered “public” domain, he did not need a security code to access
the files. Were he to find nothing in these logs, he’d have to contact Captain
DeLuca for assistance in accessing Ramsey’s personal logs, as he didn’t have
the clearance.

The logs discouraged him when they offered no insights into what had happened
to the ship and her crew. In the last five days, the Sovereign-class starship
had cataloged twenty gaseous anomalies, seven micro-subspace rifts, and had
collected fourteen asteroid samples from the nearby Yodalt Belt. There had been
no contacts with any other species, hostile or otherwise, since their restock
of supplies from the U.S.S. Hellespont
seventeen days ago.

The trouble began ninety-six hours before Messenger
had received Ramsey’s cry for help. Nearly the entire gamma shift had reported
to Sickbay with vague flu-like symptoms. Their chief medical officer, Dr. Karen
Middleton, had given them the standard treatment before returning them to duty.
During the shift, there were forty-two medical emergencies that required
medical teams to be dispatched from Sickbay, ranging from simple fainting to a
crewmember who had suffered a cardiac event. The ship’s log wasn’t any more
specific since it was meant to be an overview of operations. The medical logs
would be more telling and he would have tried to gain access to Ramsey’s
personal logs but he didn’t have the command codes. He once again considered
that he would contact Captain DeLuca about it later if it was necessary. After
the captain’s ready room, Sickbay would be his next stop.

Closing the ship’s log, the R’naari tapped his commbadge. “Jaarid to Killian.”

“Killian here, go ahead,” the doctor
replied.

“Anything to report, Doctor?”

“Nothing so far, Commander. I’ll keep
looking.”

Jaarid
stifled a groan at hearing she’d had no better luck than he’d had. “Please let
me know the moment you do,” he told her, even though he knew the request was
unnecessary.

“Of course. Killian out.”

Standing up from the captain’s chair, Jaarid grimaced in thought. There was one
painfully obvious thing that he had forgotten to try—he hadn’t done it because he
knew that the answer would likely prove to be just as frustrating as the logs
had been. Despite his misgivings, he asked the computer, “Computer, locate
Captain Ramsey.”

Of course, there was no answer. He should have known better. Double-tapping his
commbadge to close the first channel and open another one, he called out, “Jaarid
to Ja-Nareth.”

Again, he received no response.

“Computer, are you sure that Captain Ramsey is in the Astrometrics lab?”

Affirmative, the computer replied.

“Locate Lt. Ja-Nareth,” he tried.

There is no Lt. Ja-Nareth assigned to the
U.S.S. Andromeda.

This
time, Jaarid allowed himself to groan as he realized his blunder: naturally, as
none of the away team were listed on Andromeda’s
crew roster, the computer wouldn’t recognize any of their names. “I’m aware of
that. Locate all non-crew Starfleet commbadge ID chips and tell me the location
of Lt. Tyrone Ja-Nareth.”

Working…
the computer told him with a chirp. A minute later the matronly female voice
that was standard on all Starfleet ships reported, Lt. Tyrone Ja-Nareth is in Astrometrics.

Still
nothing, and it wasn’t like Ja-Nareth not to respond to a summons, unless he
was engrossed in one of his numerous experiments. A knot of concern began to
form n his stomach, and he tapped his commbadge again.

“Jaarid
to S’Lene.”

In
the split second it took the Vulcan to answer, he prayed to the Goddess R'naar (for
whom his people had been named) that she actually would answer. Killian had
managed to do so, but he hadn’t gotten anything out of Ja-Nareth, and that
worried him.

“Yes, Commander?”

He
breathed a sigh of relief when S’Lene’s voice came through his commbadge. “Have
you glimpsed Ja-Nareth in the last hour?” he asked her.

“No, sir—haven’t seen him since the lift
dropped him off on Deck Eleven.”

Okay, that was not good, because she was the last person to have seen the
science officer. “Are you alone down there, Ensign?” he queried, suspecting
suddenly that perhaps they were not alone on the Andromeda after all.

He
was right on the latinum. “Not yet sir.
So far all the propulsion systems appear to be functioning within parameters.
Andromeda is just sitting at all-stop.”

Jaarid
hung his head for a moment before he acknowledged and, after advising her to
alert him the moment she found anything, he closed the channel and contacted
Lt. Hollen. He was able to get through to her as well, thankfully, but her
report was the same as the doctor’s and the engineer’s: nothing yet, everything
appeared normal. All the security logs had told her was that the security chief
had been running battle drills up until the crew began getting sick four days
ago. And she hadn’t seen Ja-Nareth since he’d left the bridge, either.

Jaarid
shook his head and started for the captain’s ready room, stopping short when
the door swished open suddenly, revealing a rather pretty woman. She had short,
raven-colored hair, gray eyes and she wore the teal green divisional color of a
science officer.

Still,
despite the Starfleet attire, given the fact that he could no longer locate one
of his team he slowly drew his phaser and pointed it at her.

“Where did you come from?” the woman asked, obviously startled by his appearance.

“I’m Lt. Commander Jaarid, U.S.S. Messenger.
We came in response to your distress call. I desire you would tell me who you are.”

The woman took a tentative step forward, examining Jaarid as if he might be an
illusion. “Lt. Lyriye Telek,” she said, “Senior Science Officer of the Andromeda, Commander.”

Jaarid also took a step closer, noticing her slightly angled eyebrows and the delicate
points on her ears. “’Telek’—is that Vulcan?”

“No. Romulan, actually,” she said. “Inherited from my grandfather—the rest of
me’s Betazoid. Have you found anyone else aboard?”

He
continued to study her, wanting very much to believe his eyes but knowing he
could not. Jaarid lowered his phaser but did not holster it while retrieving
his own tricorder from a pouch on the tool belt he’d donned in the Messenger’s transporter room. Flipping
it open with his thumb, he deftly used the digit to press the buttons allowing
him to run a biological scan. It confirmed what she had said about her genetic
heritage. He chose, for now, to give her the benefit of the doubt, but even as
he put his tricorder and phaser away, he made a mental note to watch for any
signs of deception.

“I have found no others, and it would please me much if you are able to shed
some light on what’s happened here.”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be much help, sir,” Telek said with a groan. “I
finished Beta shift and returned to my quarters. It had been a particularly
busy day since we collected fourteen asteroid samples—nodules, really. Our
scans told us they were almost completely composed of kesrinite.”

“Kesrinite is not common to this sector,” Jaarid said. “If memory serves, it is
only found in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Precisely. So you can see why we were so curious about them,” she continued.
“Anyway, after my shift, I had dinner and went to bed. When I woke up, I was
alone on an empty ship.”

Telek smiled grimly. “Despite being only one-quarter Romulan, sir, I’m pretty
resistant to most Human influenza strains. Pointy ears and angled eyebrows
aren’t the only thing besides my name I inherited from Grandfather Perad—I
somehow ended up with the green blood and strong immune system Rommies are born
with.”

“Be that as it may, Lieutenant,” Jaarid said slowly, his eyebrows rising at her
use of a word that was generally considered derogatory toward her grandfather’s
species. “I desire we head down to Sickbay that we can get you checked out just
the same.”

”I’ve already been to Sickbay since I woke up, sir. There’s no doctor or anyone
else there.”

Killian grumbled a Gaelic epithet as she clicked through one useless report
after another. Muscle pains, gastrointestinal discomfort, headaches… All of
these were symptoms of a standard influenza virus. Several of the Andromeda’s crew had suffered from
self-resolved syncopal episodes. The only “odd” medical chart was that of a
young lieutenant who had suffered from a myocardial infarction and subsequently
died. There was no record of an autopsy performed, only the name of the
patient. She needed to cross-reference this with the other files but she was
unfamiliar with the Sovereign-class starship’s sickbay records system, as she’d
never served on one before. Prior to the Messenger,
her postings had been two different starbases, an Excelsior-class, and a
Miranda-class. The Mess, as her ship
was affectionately called by the crew, had the most sophisticated medical
facility she’d had the privilege of working in.

Until
now. The Sovereign medical facility, though similar in layout, had several times more biobeds and equipment.

After many futile attempts, she hissed in frustration, then remembered the Emergency
Medical Hologram. If the Andromeda’s doctor
had been inundated with patients—as the records she had been reading clearly
indicated had been the case—then perhaps she would have utilized the program to
assist her and the other doctors, and the EMH’s memory might contain the
information she sought.

An image of a middle-aged, balding humanoid wearing medical blue appeared in
front of the desk in the doctor’s office, where she had sat to do her research.
“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the simulation said, which
Killian knew was the standard greeting.

“There is no emergency right now, Doctor,” Killian said. “I do, however, need
some information.”

“I’m a doctor, not a computer terminal,” the holographic doctor replied with a
mildly insolent air. “I suggest that you consult the medical database.”

The red-headed Human smiled, already well-versed in handling the Mark I EMH—Messenger had one (though she couldn’t
help wondering why the Andromeda
didn’t have one of the newer models), but after nearly four years of running
the night shift, their own had developed a much more genial attitude. They key
to dealing with the Mark I model, she had learned, was not to engage him. They
seemed to respond the way you wanted them to when you got straight to the
point. “I need access to your memory files for the last ninety-six hours,” she
told him mildly.

The hologram blinked suddenly and looked around—even moving to duck his head
out of the office to look into the treatment area—as if just realizing she was
someone he didn’t recognize. Killian suspected then that Andromeda’s doctor had not yet downloaded the new Facial
Recognition subroutine, which would likely have included her own face as she
had been given the “honor” of being the face of the Mark III EMH. “What are you
doing in my sickbay?” the EMH asked. “Where’s Dr. Middleton? Where’s the rest
of the medical staff?”

“I’m Dr. Maureen Killian, Chief Medical Officer of the U.S.S. Messenger. We came in response to your
distress call.”

Killian cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We haven’t time for that right
now, Doctor. Just accept my word that we responded to a distress call from the Andromeda. Now, a member of your crew, a
lieutenant, suffered a cardiac arrest recently. I need the files pertaining to
that incident.”

“Of course. The crewman was Lt. Lyriye Telek.”

“Cause of death?”

“No autopsy was performed, so final COD has yet to be determined. The procedure
was superseded by an inundation of patients for which I was activated to assist
in treating by Dr. Middleton.”

“Yes, I know,” Killian said. “The records say there was a flu outbreak.”

“The crew presented influenza-like symptoms, yes, but no definite diagnosis had
been reached at the time,” the hologram corrected her. “Where is Dr. Middleton?
She would be more help to you than I am.”

”Missing?!” the hologram exclaimed excitedly. “How can an entire crew just
disappear?!”

”That is exactly what we’re endeavoring to find out, Doctor,” Killian
countered, standing then. “Now where is the morgue on this class of ship? I
need to perform an autopsy on Lt. Telek to see if she might be able to give us
some answers.”

The EMH led her through Sickbay and into the morgue. He accessed the single
terminal in the room to locate which unit the lieutenant’s body had been put in.
Killian eyed the readouts from beside him. “It’s empty!” she said with
surprise. “There are no bodies in any of the freezers.”

“I don’t understand. The records are accurate,” the Doctor replied. “I … I
suppose it is possible that the body was mislaid.”

Killian
frowned. “Do you or do you not know if Lt. Telek is dead?” she asked.

“And thank you for remembering to deactivate my—” the EMH replied with the
first smile she had seen on him, his praise of her interrupted as he faded
away.

The Human stood staring at the small screen on the morgue console, tapping her
manicured fingernail on the smooth surface as she pondered what to do next.
“Blood samples!” she thought suddenly. “Middleton must have taken blood samples
of the crewmembers who came in.” She accessed the layout of the Sickbay complex
and located the medical lab, which was on the other side of sickbay from the
morgue. Once there she began to review the lab results of each patient. A
moment later, the analytical projections combined together to reveal a single
strand of infectious proteins slowly rotating on the screen.

”Yes!” Killian exclaimed with a grim smile.

*****

As they stepped into the turbolift, Jaarid pressed his commbadge. “Jaarid to
Hollen,” he said, hoping the Trill hadn’t suddenly disappeared like Ja-Nareth.

“Hollen here, Commander,” came the reply,
and he sighed minutely in relief.

“I
am headed down to the Astrometrics lab. I desire you would meet me there.”

“I think I’m done here anyway, sir. I’m on my
way. Hollen out.”

“Deck
Eleven,” Jaarid told the turbolift computer after tapping his badge again to
close the commlink to his security officer.

“I thought that we were heading for Sickbay?” his companion asked as the lift
began to descend.

Lt. Hollen met them outside of the lab as she had said she would. Her eyes
widened and her hand reached slowly for her sidearm when she noticed that
Jaarid was not alone. “Commander?” she queried casually.

Jaarid glanced at Telek, than back at Hollen. “This is Lt. Telek, Andromeda’s top squint. I found her in
the captain’s ready room.”

“What
were you doing there?” Hollen asked.

Telek
looked between the two. “I had hoped that the captain’s office terminal would
tell me something none of the other computers on this ship could—like what the
heck happened to everybody. I’ve been alone on this ship for hours.”

“I’ve
scanned her, Lieutenant. My tricorder confirmed what she told me,” Jaarid told
the Trill. “Unfortunately, Ms. Telek is as clueless about what happened here as
we are. Let us now remove ourselves to Astrometrics—Ja-Nareth didn’t answer when
I tried to reach him a short while ago.”

“Why didn’t you say so, sir? If it’s all the same to you, I’ll go first,” Hollen
said, drawing her phaser pistol and holding it in the low-ready position.

Jaarid nodded. “You’re the Security Chief, Lieutenant.”

Hollen nodded curtly and, lifting her weapon to mid-ready, stepped
closer to the double door of the Astrometrics lab and triggered it to open. Inside,
she turned in a semi-circle, sweeping the single room thoroughly including the
high, domed ceiling.

”All clear,” Hollen announced.

Jaarid and Telek entered the lab. A stunning display of the sector was spread
out on the mammoth screen on the far side of the room; a particularly
spectacular spot on the map was the Yodalt Belt with its huge, rolling
asteroids. Some of them were big enough to be classified as planetoids.

“Here’s something,” the security chief said, picking up Ja-Nareth’s tricorder
and handing it over to Jaarid.

Jaarid
shook his head. “No. Once in a while he gets scatter-brained, but that’s
usually only when he’s in the middle of an experiment.” He tried him for a
third time on his communicator but again got nothing. Hollen tried as well, and
even Telek tried to contact him. After they all failed, Jaarid turned his
attention to the tricorder in his hand, looking up the device’s last reading.

He frowned after a moment. “This greatly confounds me,” he said, turning the
device around and showing the information to Telek and Hollen.

”A malfunction, perhaps?” Hollen suggested.

Telek was wide-eyed with bewilderment. “I agree, this can’t possibly be right—according
to these readings, there were over six hundred people in this room with him. Except for me, that’s the entire crew.”

****

“Might I be some assistance to you, Ensign?” a young man wearing an engineering
uniform asked as he walked around the pulsating tower that was the Andromeda’s
warp reaction chamber.

S’Lene looked up from the main engineering display, which she knew was often
called a “pool table.” “I was not aware of your presence, Lieutenant
Commander.”

”Benito Sanchez,” he said firmly to her. He strode up confidently toward the
young Vulcan. “I’m Chief Engineer of this ship. May I ask who you are?”

S’Lene stood slowly, perplexed by his behavior but not confused. She had
checked the crew manifest in the ship’s computer first thing upon arrival in
Engineering, and there was no doubt that this was Sanchez. However, she was
mystified by how he was able to remain unseen during the hour that she had
spent in Engineering.

“I’m Ensign S’Lene, a warp propulsion systems technician from the U.S.S. Messenger,” she said, introducing
herself. “I’m here as part of an away team—our ship responded to a distress
signal from the Andromeda. How many
members of your staff survived the incident?”

Sanchez met her gaze with a doubtful look. “Ensign, as far as I know, there
hasn’t been an incident where we would require a rescue.”

S’Lene felt her eyebrow rise. “As Chief Engineer of the Andromeda, I believe that you would be aware of any such emergency.
To state otherwise would be illogical, Commander.”

Ignoring her challenge, he gestured to the master control panel. “As you can
see, everything’s operating within normal parameters.”

S’Lene turned to examine the readouts on the console herself. “I agree with
your analysis. That does not, however, change the fact that a distress signal
was sent by your captain and received by my ship. Can you tell me where I might
be able to locate Captain Ramsey?”

“Right here.” Lieutenant Commander Benito Sanchez’s voice changed in pitch from
a tenor to a bass as he drove a disabling chop against the Vulcan’s
exposed neckline.

*****

“I have glimpsed enough,” Jaarid said, looking at Telek and Hollen. “I believe
it prudent we collect S’Lene and Dr. Killian so we can find Ja’Nareth and get
back to Messenger. Perhaps we can
come up with some answers to what happened here on a starship we can trust.”

Hollen nodded in agreement as he tapped his commbadge.

“Jaarid to away team, assemble in Sickbay at once.” The badge offered no sound
other than the usual chirp so he touched it again. “Away team, acknowledge.”

His
commbadge remained silent.

A sudden throb echoed through the empty ship with a deep, vibrating rhythm that
meant only one thing to the three officers: the engines were coming on-line.

“We’re moving,” Hollen said with alarm in her voice.

*****

“Captain…” Ensign Tucker called out from the helm.

DeLuca looked up from his review of the Sovereign-class schematic displayed on
the monitor between the two command chairs. “Yes?”

“It’s the Andromeda, sir. She’s
moving away from us at one-third impulse and increasing speed.”

“What?” On the forward viewscreen, he
watched as the Andromeda elegantly
turned to port. Her impulse engines glowed red as maneuvering power was fed
into them, and the warp field grilles on the nacelles began to shine their
bright blue.

“Don’t lose her, Miss Tucker,” DeLuca ordered him. He stood and turned to Sully
at Ops. “Do you have a lock on the away team?”

“Warp three and climbing, Captain,” Tucker informed him. “We can run up to nine
point nine seven-five, but we can only maintain that speed for an hour.
Sovereigns max at 9.99, which they can maintain for thirty-six hours—if they go
that fast we’ll never be able to catch them.”

DeLuca sighed. He hated having to fire on another Federation ship, but there
were members of his own crew aboard the Andromeda
and she was flying away with them. “I’m aware of a Sovereign-class starship’s
top speed, Miss Tucker. You keep us close and I’ll worry about stopping her.”

At least, he thought, she’s not firing back at us.

He
turned and dropped back down into his command chair, bracing an elbow on the
armrest and stroking his chin as he considered various ways of stopping the
larger, faster, and overall more powerful ship.

“Captain,” his young pilot spoke up again. “I’ve computed the Andromeda’s course.”

“Which is?”

“She’s on a direct course for the Bajoran wormhole at Deep Space Nine.”

“The wormhole? That’ll take them straight into the Gamma Quadrant.”

*****

“Who the hell is shooting at us?” Telek asked as the trio of Starfleet officers
were flung against a corridor bulkhead.

“That would be our captain,” Jaarid said grimly. “I daresay he is trying to
keep this ship from leaving.”

“And where is there to go?”

“According to popular opinion,” Hollen deadpanned, “space is very big.”

“Who’s driving is the bigger question,” Jaarid said.

“Killian to Jaarid.”

“Jaarid here,” the R’naari called out, flushing with pleasure that their
commbadges were suddenly working again.

“Come down to Sickbay, Commander. I’ve
got something to show you—I believe I know what happened here.”

“Already on my way, Doctor,” Jaarid told her. “I’ll be there in due course.”

The three of them ran for the nearest turbolift, hoping to make it there before
another volley of fire could strike the Andromeda.

*****

DeLuca
stood again suddenly and went up to the top level of the bridge to stand beside
Hillstrand at the tactical console. “I have an idea, and we’ve got to do this
carefully—I want them stopped, not blown to atoms. Let’s remember we have some
of our own people over there.”

Hillstrand nodded again. “Understood, Captain.” His fingers flew across his
board as the younger man figured out the shooting solution, and the last tap on
his console was followed by the double ping of launching torpedoes.

“Ready phasers, Ensign,” DeLuca said, watching on the viewscreen as the torpedoes
streaked across the distance between the two ships. Seconds later they bloomed
in two brilliant, orange-white flares against the Sovereign-class starship’s
shields. The Andromeda’s rear
deflector fluctuated under the shockwave and vanished.

“We’re about to cause more, Sully. Ensign Hillstrand, target the warp drive and
fire,” DeLuca said. To his pilot, he added, “Tucker, prepare to drop to
impulse.”

Both officers acknowledged their orders. A moment later, Messenger’s phasers gouged a vicious tear into Andromeda’s engineering
hull. Several explosions lit up along the ship and were quickly snuffed out by
the cold vacuum of space. With her warp field collapsed, the Sovereign-class
starship slowed to sub-light speed.

“Go to impulse power,” DeLuca called out even as Tucker was easing the ship out
of warp, expertly placing her five hundred kilometers behind the Andromeda.

“Great job,” DeLuca told his bridge crew, walking across to the operations station.
“Lock onto whomever you can and beam them out of there.”

DeLuca turned his attention toward the main viewer as the starship on the
screen made a sweeping, graceful turn and aimed straight for them. The phaser
strips on the top of her hull began to glow red-orange with lethal energy.

“Full power to forward shields,” he ordered quickly. “Evasive maneuvers!”

Well, Dominic, he thought, you managed to piss off who—or what—ever is
controlling the Andromeda. What now?

A second later, the upper phaser emitters of the Andromeda’s saucer section fired on the smaller vessel. Messenger’s ovoid-shaped forward shields
flashed blue and faded, holding up against the onslaught. On the bridge, panels
sparked with electricity, smoke poured from vents, and damaged optic cables
fell from their overhead compartments—but she held together.

“Our port shields are down to thirty-one percent,” Hillstrand said.

“And that was only a glancing blow,” Tucker said, pulling herself up off of the
deck.

“Damage reports coming in,” Sully said. “Minor fires on decks four and seven.
Power fluctuations on all decks, some structural damage. Injuries from falls
including knocked heads and a couple broken bones.”

“Deploy medical and damage control teams,” the captain said as he coughed from
the smoke in the air and headed back down to the command level.

Messenger, he mused, was infinitely
more maneuverable than the Andromeda
based on size alone, but according to the bottom line, his ship was a light
cruiser and her opponent was a battleship. Any contest between them would
surely result in the Messenger’s
destruction.

His thoughts were interrupted by the angry voice of Arkhet djan Zabrak, Messenger’s Chief Engineer. “Engineering to Bridge,” the Tellarite
lieutenant commander shouted over the intercom. “What the hell are you doing to my ship? Testing the structural
integrity field against a bunch of frelling asteroids?”

DeLuca
had to grin as he took his seat again. Even though he was the captain, Zabrak
always referred to Messenger as his ship. “Not quite, Commander. I don’t
think the asteroids would have caused as much damage.”

“She’s coming around for another pass,” Ensign Hillstrand warned.

Great, DeLuca thought. Here we go again.

*****

Jaarid
and the two women with him walked into Sickbay, a little surprised not to find
her in the main treatment area. “Doctor Killian?” he called out.

“In
here, Commander,” her voice replied from the right, and he led his companions
into what appeared to be the medical lab. The doctor turned around at their
entrance and gasped.

“You!”
Maureen Killian cried out, pulling her phaser from its holster and aiming it at
Lt. Telek. “You’re dead!”

Killian emitted a low groan of disapproval. “Commander, I can’t cover her and
explain the situation at the same time. If she’s who and what I believe her to
be, then she’s a danger to all of us.”

Jaarid turned to Telek. “If Dr. Killian says there’s a reason to be concerned,
I am inclined to believe her. Is there anything that you desire to tell us now?”

Telek’s eyes and voice were full of confusion when she spoke. “I have no idea
what she’s going on about. Except for earlier today, I haven’t been to Sickbay
since my last required medical examination, and that was four months ago. And
since we’re talking to each other, I’m obviously not dead.”

Jaarid studied the scientist a long moment. “Hollen, observe Ms. Telek while
the good doctor shows me her data,” Jaarid said. Hollen nodded and rested her
hand on the butt of her gun, but did not remove it from the holster as yet.

Stepping over to stand next to Dr. Killian, who continued to glance suspiciously in Telek’s direction, Jaarid
asked the woman, “What did you find, Doctor?”

“This,”
she said as she finally turned her attention back to him, pointing at the small
screen over her console.

Jaarid looked at the simulation models that ranged from single string-like
organisms to single-celled, multi-celled, and higher lifeforms that he didn’t
recognize. Though at almost 29 years of age it hadn’t been that long since his
academy days, he found he honestly had no clue what he was looking at.

“Pray, what is this? Some kind of virus?” he asked, making a wild guess.

“Very perceptive, Commander,” Killian said with a smile, “but this is even more
insidious than your regular virus. It’s practically a parasite. The tiniest
infectious lifeform known to medical science is the prion, a single strand of
protein that can invade and conquer a cell, causing that cell to do its
bidding.”

“Dr. Killian,” the younger officer interrupted, “we have a dire situation
here. I have not the time for a lesson in microbiology.”

Just then, the distinctive sound of weapons fire reached them.

“That
was Andromeda’s phasers, I think,” Hollen
said.

“Messenger stands very little chance against this ship,” Jaarid said with concern. “But who is firing? Andromeda is incapable of operating by
herself.”

“I have the answer to your question, Jaarid,” Killian pointed out.

Jaarid ignored her for a moment. “Computer, disable weapons and shields.”

That instruction requires command
authorization codes, the computer replied to his request. He ought have
known that tactic wouldn’t work—not being assigned to the Andromeda, he didn’t have a voiceprint that this ship’s computer
would recognize.

“Commander,” DeLuca said, his voice
muffled by static. “We’ve taken out the
Andromeda’s warp drive but we can’t get
close enough to strike at the weapons systems. We’re dodging as best as we can
but we could use some help with that on your end.”

“Acknowledged.” Jaarid said, then gave his captain a quick rundown of what Dr.
Killian had discovered before closing the comm channel and casting a look at Lt.
Hollen. “Take the weapons offline any way that you can.”

“Aye, sir,” the Trill said with an ominous grin as she turned and ducked out of
the medical lab.

“Now, Doctor, you were saying?” Jaarid queried as he returned his attention to Messenger’s chief medical officer, whom
he found once again pointing a phaser at Lyriye Telek.

“I’d like the lieutenant to enter a medical containment field. Then I’ll
explain.”

Jaarid didn’t have the time, or the inclination, to argue with her. He turned
to Telek. “Would you mind, Lieutenant?”

“Not at all,” she answered, shaking her head in bewilderment. As she walked
over to the single biobed in the medlab, Killian followed her with the phaser
in her hand. Once Telek was close enough to the bed, the doctor reached down
and pressed a control that erected a forcefield around the lieutenant and the
diagnostic bed. Only then did she return her weapon to its holster once more.

“Observe, Commander,” the Human said, drawing Jaarid’s attention back to the
monitor. “This is something that I only heard being theorized about by a Dr.
Mora at Starfleet Medical before the war. It’s called a mutagenic prion, or muta-prion, and it was
theorized to be the building block of Changeling DNA.”

DeLuca looked at her with his silver eyes wide. “You mean shapeshifters? As in
the Founders? As in the Dominion?”

“Yes,” Killian confirmed, “that’s right, Commander. According to the critical
care chart, Lt. Telek suffered from her cardiac arrest after examining the
kesrinite nodules from the Yodalt asteroids. That’s also about the time that
the crew started coming down with the flu.”

“So you think that she’s infected with those muta-prions that she picked up from
those nodules?”

Killian’s distressed grimace deepened. “No, this is much more sinister than
that.” She flicked through the models on the screen to show that each time that
a muta-prion met with living tissue, it evolved into a higher form. Then that
cell would engulf another, grow, and transform again. “You see, Jaarid, these
prions would have been enough to completely engulf her cellular structure. I
think that she’s a Changeling even now.”

“Supposing that is true, where’s the rest of the crew?”

The physician’s expression became even darker with this question. “Absorbed. I
believe that they’re all inside of her.”

“Changelings have been known to replace people if I remember the SI reports
correctly, but never absorb them. How could this be possible?” Jaarid asked
doubtfully.

“The records regarding Changeling physiology are exceedingly spare. The case
files accumulated by Dr. Julian Bashir before and during the war have been
sealed for security reasons, but I surmise that these muta-prions need enormous
amounts of cellular matter to create an entire Changeling.”

“The readings from Ja-Nareth’s tricorder indicated that there were over six
hundred distinct biosigns in the Astrometrics lab with him,” Jaarid said as he
looked at Telek now with deep suspicion. The only Changeling that he had ever
heard any detail about was Odo, Deep Space Nine’s former Security Chief, but
given what he had read in the aforementioned Starfleet Intelligence reports, he
knew enough not to trust his own eyes. Or a tricorder scan.

“That would be consistent with my research, Commander. The prion-Changeling
would retain many if not all of the biochemical and bio-electrical signatures
of its converted hosts.”

“Are we looking at some kind of Scorched Earth weapon that was left here by Dominion
forces to mutate us all into shapeshifters?” Jaarid was thinking of a history
lesson from his first year at Starfleet Academy, in which he had learned that
the Ancient Romans of Earth had been known to poison an enemy’s water supply
when they were forced to withdraw from the region that they were invading.

Jaarid grimaced even as he nodded in agreement. “I think even Captain DeLuca,
with his distaste for Klingon cultural tenets, would agree with that
assessment, Doctor.” He then jerked his head in Telek’s direction. “Scanning
her is likely useless, though when I first met her I scanned her and I only got
one biosign, not seven hundred. What about a blood sample? I remember that
blood screenings were being used during the war as a detection procedure
against Changeling infiltrators.”

“We shouldn’t go near her. I doubt that our sterilizers would protect us from
the sheer number of muta-prions that she must contain in her blood stream. It’s
a miracle, really, that she hasn’t tried to infect you already, or Lt. Hollen.”

“Hello?
Maybe because I’m not some Changeling Frankenstein?” Telek piped up from across
the room.

“Please state the nature of …” The EMH stopped upon seeing Killian. “Hello
again.”

“Hello, Doctor. We need you to draw a blood sample from the woman behind the
containment field.”

He
briefly glanced over his shoulder at Telek. “What for? If whatever she has is
possibly airborne, I’m afraid you’re both already exposed,” the hologram said.

“Just
do it, please,” Killian said.

Looking between Killian, whom he knew already, and the tall, imposing form of
Jaarid, the EMH simply nodded. He walked over to an instrument table and picked
up a hypospray and a clear, empty tubule and walked through the field like it
wasn’t even there. He reached out for the woman to take a blood sample but
stopped. “This is Lt. Telek—but she’s been pronounced dead!”

“So everybody keeps telling me,” Telek commented wryly.

“You
have your orders, Doctor,” Jaarid prompted him from behind the lab console.
“Take the blood sample. We need to know if Lt. Telek is a Changeling.”

His eyes widening a fraction in surprise, the EMH nodded. “Of course. Just hold
still, Lieutenant,” the hologram said lightly to his patient, setting the hypo
to draw instead of express before holding it against her neck and pressing the
control button. The tubule he had inserted into the bottom of the device
promptly filled with rich, dark green blood. The hologram withdrew the
hypo after a few seconds and popped out sample capsule, shaking it and holding
it up to eye level before looking once again at Jaarid and Killian.

“You
can run further tests on this if you want, but she’s not a Changeling.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Jaarid said with a nod of his head. “Computer, remove the
containment field and deactivate the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

The EMH seemed surprised at having been thanked for his work. “You’re welcome,”
he said before once again vanishing away.

Telek picked up the hypospray and the capsule with her blood in it, which had
dropped to the floor when the hologram dematerialized, and carried it over to
them. “I told you that my green blood was tough.”

“If you would please, ma’am,” Telek replied, tapping a series of instructions
into the computer. A moment later, she introduced her blood to the sample that
the doctor had isolated. On the main console monitor, the muta-prion was
instantly devoured by the greenish-black macrophages in her blood.

“In this case,” the Andromeda’s
science officer said mildly, “resistance is excellent.”

“Wait,” Jaarid said. “During the war, the Founders were able to impersonate a
high-ranking Romulan official.”

“Mimic, yes,” Killian said. “Absorb, no.”

Telek nodded. “These muta-prions are the basic building blocks of Changeling
morphology. They could survive in the sterility of space but not in a hostile
host like me. It was probably the Romulan hibernation reflex that Dr. Middleton
mistook for cardiac arrest. It decreases all bodily functions except the immune
system, which during the reflex is hyper-stimulated. It’s sort of like routing
all of the power of a starship to the shields.”

“I agree,” the Human said with a slow nod. “Your vital signs during that
phenomenon would have been undetectable even by a medical tricorder.”

“Many medical practitioners mistakenly assume that because they share common
ancestry, Vulcans and Romulans are physically equal. They are, in fact, rather
different,” Telek pointed out.

“I thought that Romulans and Vulcans were the same species but with different
philosophies?” Jaarid queried.

“We’re not identical anymore,” Telek said. “There are many differences that have
evolved between our species since the Great Schism. For example, Romulans no
longer experience pon farr. Some of
them also have pronounced cranial ridges, whereas Vulcans do not. Most times it
takes a microcellular scan or a blood test to tell the difference. Truthfully,
there aren’t many healers outside of the Romulan Star Empire who are even aware
of the hibernation reflex. From what I see from Dr. Killian’s models, my immune
system must have been overwhelmed by these muta-prions, which triggered the
reflex.”

Killian confirmed this information with a nod of her head. “To be perfectly
honest with you, it’s absolutely amazing that your body can even perform the
hibernation reflex with only one-quarter Romulan genetics. You’re really very
lucky, Lieutenant, as it’s obviously what saved you from being absorbed like
the rest of the crew. It’s also incredible that you’re the only member of the
crew with Vulcanoid blood, as nowadays there’s usually at least two Vulcans on
every Starfleet ship—at least that’s been my experience. We’ve got three on Messenger.”

“So if Dr. Middleton set her tricorder for Betazoid and Vulcan scans,” Jaarid
surmised, rubbing his chin, “then she would have pronounced you dead. The chart
indicates that you succumbed in your quarters.”

“Soon after that, Sickbay was inundated with patients. She must have left you
in your quarters to respond to the crisis here,” Killian added. “So to you, it would
have seemed that you just went to your quarters and slept.”

“Yes,” the Betazoid-Romulan hybrid affirmed, “and once my hibernation reflex
had accomplished its task, I awoke to find myself alone aboard the Andromeda.”

They heard the doors to Sickbay swish open and all three officers walked out
into the main treatment center to see Ensign S’Lene, a phaser grasped firmly in
her hand, shoving a disheveled Captain George Ramsey into the room. “I believe
that I have discovered a Changeling among us. He first appeared to me as Chief
Engineer Sanchez,” the Vulcan reported, “before he changed into this form in an
attempt to subdue me. His martial skills are lacking.”

“He did say he knew a George Ramsey,” Messenger’s
first officer said, circling the medical console with his own phaser drawn. “I
also know just how perfectly a shapeshifter can imitate a Human.”

The Changeling appearing as Captain Ramsey lunged at Jaarid, his fingers
spreading into gelatinous claws. S’Lene fired her phaser and a hole opened up
in the man’s torso, allowing the beam to pass through him, leaving him
unscathed. The phaser beam struck the medical console and sent sparks flying
everywhere. Killian and Telek ducked for cover but not before the doctor managed
to initiate another force field around the shapeshifter. The Changeling howled angrily
when it contacted the energy barrier. Trapped, the creature began to shift from
one crewman to another, its facial features and body styles flowing and
twisting into inhuman angles and contours. It made movements that no lifeform
with a skeleton could accomplish.

“Obviously your physiological similarities are close enough to prevent the shapeshifter
from absorbing Ensign S’Lene,” Jaarid commented to Telek, who nodded in
agreement.

“Am I missing something?” Messenger’s
engineer asked.

“The ship has been invaded by some kind of Changeling virus, and having green
blood seems to make you immune to it, Lieutenant,” Jaarid told her.

“That Vulcans have a superior immune system is only logical,” S’Lene said with
a grin.

Killian cursed in Gaelic. “Commander, they’re all in there, the entire crew of
the Andromeda! I’m reading DNA
signatures for everyone in the ship’s medical database.” She consulted the
tricorder she held pointed at the Changeling for another second before adding
gravely, “Ja-Nareth’s in there too.”

“I’ll have to run a few models but I think I have an idea,” she told him before
bending over a console to work on her theory. Her fingers fluttered
over the control board at a pace faster than Jaarid had ever seen a Human’s
hands move.

“Messenger to Jaarid,” the R’naari’s
commbadge chirped again. It was DeLuca’s voice, only the signal was much
clearer now.

“Jaarid here. Go ahead, Captain.”

“The good news is that Andromeda has stopped shooting at us, so thanks for
that,” the captain informed him. “We’ve
sustained some damage and Zabrak is pretty tweaked about it. As usual.”

Jaarid chuckled as he took in the knowing glances of Dr. Killian and S’Lene. “And
the bad news, sir?” he asked, guessing that there was bad news to come.

“Andromeda’s resumed her course for the
Bajoran wormhole and the Gamma Quadrant at full impulse. According to Sully’s
scans, it also looks like the warp engines are being repaired at an impossible
rate—it’s almost like they’re regenerating themselves. If the ship goes to full
warp, we won’t be able to keep up with you in our current condition. We’re
going to alert Starfleet Command and Colonel Kira on DS9 to apprise them of the
situation.”

“Understood, sir. We’ll do our best to stop Andromeda
from here. Jaarid out.”

“The muta-prions must have invaded the bio-neural circuitry. That’s how they’re
able to control the ship,” Telek surmised, receiving a confirming nod from
S’Lene.

Hollen entered the biolab once more. “The weapons systems are off-line,” she
said, her wicked grin revealing that she had enjoyed her work. “Permanently.”

Then
she turned her gaze to the monster trapped inside of the force field. “D’ezgra Changeling,” she cursed in
Tellarite. “They’re always like a serpent in the shadows, waiting for the
chance to strike.”

“Except that this Changeling is apparently carrying the entire Andromeda crew
inside of its amorphous form,” S’Lene informed her.

“I have a lot of friends on this ship,” Telek said. “I’d hate to attend their
funerals.”

“Well, that is truly unfortunate,” Hollen said gravely, “for the only good
Changeling is a dead one.” She patted the grip of her weapon for emphasis.

“I mean to avoid that outcome if possible, Yvala,” Jaarid said, glancing at her
with a warning look. “S’Lene, I understand that the standard operating
procedure for reducing an infection inside of the bio-neural gel pack system is
to raise the ship’s internal temperature. Give it a fever, as it were. Can that
solution work for us here?”

“The principle is sound since it has worked before with bacterial infections.
However, I am unsure if the muta-prion organism, while being bacterial, would
succumb to such an action.”

“She’s
right,” Killian said without looking up from her calculations. “A lifeform that
can withstand the harshness of naked space could hardly be affected by raising
the internal temperature fifty degrees.”

Jaarid frowned. “Well then, how many gel packs are there aboard a standard
Sovereign-class starship? Perhaps we can just tear them out of the primary
systems.”

“There are four hundred bio-neural gel packs on this class of starship,” Telek replied,
“located throughout the vessel in most of the key systems’ data transfer
relays. It would take the five of us ten-point-six hours to remove and replace
them all.”

Messenger’s first officer sighed.
“And by that time, we’d be deep inside of Dominion territory—if Starfleet does
not stop us first.”

Lt. Telek nodded, then Ensign S’Lene picked up the narrative. “Furthermore,
while they have proven they are controlling the ship via the gel packs, there
is currently no proof to the contrary that they are not in the standard
mechanical and electrical systems as well. Without guaranteeing those systems
are clear, replacing the gel packs would be an inefficient use of time, as they
could potentially become infected again.”

Hollen shrugged indifferently. “The shields are down and the ship is
defenseless. We can beam out, stand off, and destroy her.”

Jaarid’s jaw tightened at the very suggestion. Being left behind wasn’t a
subject that sat well with him. He pointed a finger at the continuously
morphing monstrosity inside the flickering containment field. “We don’t leave
our fellow officers behind. Not even in that kind of hell, Lieutenant. We must
try and save them if we can.”

Hollen scoffed. “With all due respect, sir, if we’re facing a Dominion weapon
here, then this ship and its crew are acceptable losses.”

“I do not believe in acceptable losses,” Jaarid said, his tone suddenly
bordering on furious. “Are you forgetting that this thing has Ja-Nareth too? Or is Tyrone no longer a friend of yours?”

“If this is a Dominion weapon, then why are they heading back to their natural
habitat?” Telek asked, trying to divert the commander’s and the security
chief’s anger from each other. “You’d think that they would head for a
populated area of Federation space like Earth or a shipyard. Somewhere they
could generate a blow to the Federation as a whole.”

“Or a planet!” Jaarid exclaimed, now seeing the larger scope of the situation.
“They are not heading for the wormhole—the prions are heading for Deep Space
Nine so they can destroy it, maybe to absorb everyone there, thus leaving the
quadrant open to invasion again.”

“This ship has no weapons. There’s no way they can accomplish that,” Hollen
said.

“They can if they overload the warp core and ram the station at the same time,”
Jaarid retorted.

“Doctor,” Telek asked, “may I interrupt you for a moment?”

“What
is it, Lieutenant?” Killian asked, clearly not wanting to be distracted.

“Bio-neural gel works on the same principle as a living being’s nervous
system,” Telek began.

“Yes, they do. Please get to the point quickly, Miss Telek, as I’m trying to
figure out a way to save your shipmates.”

“Is there some kind of paralytic agent that we can use on the system to interrupt
the neural conduction?” the Betazoid-Romulan asked her. “If the prions can’t
communicate with each other, they can’t run the ship.”

Killian looked up from her board then, considering the question. Before the
doctor could reply, though, Hollen spoke up with, “There’s one compound I know
of that would assure such an outcome: theragen.”

“That is a deadly Klingon nerve gas,” Jaarid objected to the security chief’s
suggestion. “Killing the ship’s neural circuitry would eliminate the
life-support systems as well as several others. We desire to stop the prions,
not kill ourselves in the process.”

“In its purest form, yes,” Killian interjected, “but we can synthesize a
diluted form of theragen that would deaden the synapses in the gel packs.”

The Vulcan gave a curt nod. “It can be done, but I am somewhat concerned about
the use of a Klingon military weapon. Surely there must be another medication
that can be used to accomplish the same task.”

“Nerazuron,” Dr. Killian suggested. “It disrupts the neurotransmitters in most
living things and it should work here.”

“Lt.
Telek, start synthesizing the drug. S’Lene, set up a system to introduce the
drug and while you’re at it, eject the warp core. That should buy us some
time,” Jaarid ordered. Both officers acknowledged their instructions before
leaving.

“Jaarid,” the Changeling called out, this time taking on the form of Tyrone
Ja-Nareth. “You can’t stop us. The warp
engines are repaired. We’ll be at the wormhole in three hours.”

“Your side lost the war, Changeling,” the R’naari snapped at the creature. “You
surrendered.”

“Did we?” the Ja-Nareth-Changeling taunted him. “Or have we just fallen back to
a strategic position where we can wait for this opportunity?”

Jaarid moved closer to the field. The creature looked like Ja-Nareth, right
down to the tiny mole on his left earlobe that he refused to have removed. He
remembered him tugging at it in thought on many occasions. These things were
good at impersonation, he’d give them that.

“You
have heard what I said to my security chief,” he told it. “I do not believe in
acceptable losses. But a very wise man once said that the needs of the many
outweigh the needs of the few, and I do believe in that. If we get anywhere
near Deep Space Nine, I’ll destroy you and this ship.”

“But
didn’t you just say you wanted to save the one you call Tyrone? Or is he no
longer a friend of yours, R’naari?” the
Changeling taunted him.

Jaarid
stepped even closer, so close that he could feel the electricity generated by
the forcefield tickling his skin, and looked into a set of vibrant blue eyes
that mirrored Ja-Nareth’s exactly. “You have Tyrone Ja-Nareth inside of you,
and yes, he is my friend. My friend also knows that when faced with the choice
of saving him or saving millions, I will choose the millions, and he would not
have it any other way.”

“You don’t frighten us, solid,” the Changeling said with a sneer.

“Dr. Killian is one of the finest doctors in the Federation…”

The sound of the warp engines gearing up for action cut him off, and that was
fine by Jaarid—he was tired of arguing with this thing. The prions were
carrying out their mission and it wasn’t this Changeling that was important. It
was the prions inside the gel packs.

*****

“Captain, they’re going to warp again,” Tucker told the DeLuca, looking back
from her console.

The image of Vice Admiral Tattok appeared on the viewscreen and while he was an
old, little man, the Roylan certainly cut an imposing figure from his office in
San Francisco. “Captain DeLuca, this coded channel is open to you and
Deep Space Nine.” The screen split into side-by-side views with Colonel Kira
Nerys joining the admiral on the right side of the large monitor.

“The Andromeda must not reach Deep
Space Nine,” he ordered with a scowl. “Colonel Kira, you have my personal
authority to stop that ship at all costs.”

Kira nodded. “Commander Kyle is aboard the Defiant
right now and they have laid in an intercept course from the station. He’ll be
joined by the U.S.S. Nemesis from the
Badlands. We’re also fortunate to have the Tortuga
docked at DS9 which will be joining the task force as well.”

“Admiral,” DeLuca appealed to him, “is all of this really necessary? Commander
Jaarid’s team has rendered the Andromeda
weaponless so she wouldn’t do anymore harm. There’s also a chance to unlock the
Founders’ secrets, as they can still be as every bit as dangerous as the Borg
are to this quadrant. Can’t we contain these…muta-Changelings? Cordon them off
somewhere so they can be studied?”

Tattok’s face was weary with burden but he did pause, rubbing his chin with his
three-fingered hand. “Colonel Kira,” he said after a moment. “Are there any
hospital ships in your vicinity?”

Kira looked at something off the screen, and DeLuca could tell she was working
another console. “The Virginia Apgar
is conducting physicals at Leytra, Admiral.”

Tattok nodded, his expression thankfully less grave now. “Contact the Apgar and tell them to proceed to
the rendezvous coordinates at their best possible speed.”

Messenger's captain forced himself to
contain a sudden rush of excitement upon hearing the name of the closest
hospital ship—now was not the time to be thinking about a certain beautiful
blue doctor. Forcing his thoughts back on track, he thought quickly over the
admiral’s vague indications, and then suddenly he realized what he was trying
to do: Olympic-class hospital ships had the most sophisticated quarantine
systems of any vessel in the fleet.

He was giving them the chance to save the crew of the Andromeda.

*****

Captain’s log,
supplemental…

I’ve just informed the
away team about Starfleet’s decision to destroy the Andromeda if she cannot be stopped. Dr. Killian has
come up with a method of separating the Andromeda crew from the muta-prions infecting them. The Starfleet task force
assigned to intercept us will be within rage in the next fifty-three minutes,
at which time the separated members of the Andromeda’s crew will be transported to the quarantine facilities of the hospital
ship Virginia Apgar—as will all of
Messenger’s away team. They’ll remain
there until such time as the Apgar’s medical
teams determine they’re all free of the muta-prions.

As for the Andromeda, if we are unable to purge the ship of
muta-prions before the rendezvous, there will be no choice but to destroy the
ship in order to prevent her from coming into contact with another vessel,
space station, or planet.

*****

“S’Lene to Jaarid,” the engineer’s
voice came through his commbadge. “I was
unable to eject the warp core, sir. The prions have taken complete control over
all of the engineering systems.”

Jaarid turned to Dr. Killian who was working on her computations at the control
console in Transporter Room One. “Our time is growing short,” he said.

“I know. I’m working as fast as I can, Commander.”

“Are you sure that you can separate the biosigns so that the transporter can
siphon out each individual?”

The Human woman spoke even as she continued entering equations. “I studied
genetic theory in medical school. I’m certain that I can identify the pertinent
genetic markers.”

“The transporter’s biofilters and memory of each individual should be able to
do the rest,” Lt. Telek advised from beside her.

“And you said the trick is keeping the Changeling in the transporter while you
select the proper sequences?” Jaarid pressed, aware of the fact that
Ja-Nareth’s biopattern would not be in the Andromeda
transporter’s memory banks.

“That’s why S’Lene’s in Transporter Room Two,” said Killian. “I believe syncing
both transporters will keep the Changeling in a constant state of
disassociation.”

“S’Lene to Jaarid. The medication has
been administered but there has been no change. Warp engines are online and the
Andromeda’sETA with DS9 is forty-four minutes. I am now in control of Transporter
Room Two.”

“Damn!” Killian cursed under her breath as Hollen grumbled, “Looks like we
should have used theragen after all.”

“The task force will be onto us before that time has elapsed,” Jaarid was
saying to S’Lene. “Wait for the doctor’s signal.”

“I am ready, Commander.”

Killian finished her reconfiguration of the transporter controls and with a
satisfied nod, she said, “Killian to S’Lene, begin!”

“Initiating transport,” came the
Vulcan’s response.

On the transporter pad, the trademark sparkle of energy began to swirl and
oscillate. Dr. Killian kept at her work and a second later, a humanoid form
began to take shape on the platform. She adjusted the confinement beam and a
bewildered Tyrone Ja-Nareth appeared. Telek stepped forward and quickly
escorted him from the transporter room.

“Jaarid to S’Lene, we’ve retrieved Lt. Ja-Nareth.
How are you faring down there?”

“I have the Changeling encompassed within
the matter stream, Commander. You may begin retrieving the Andromeda crew.”

After thirty minutes, Dr. Killian had managed to siphon out seventy-two members
of the Andromeda crew including
Captain Ramsey, who, despite his ordeal, remained at Jaarid’s elbow to oversee
the operation. The rest of the survivors had been placed outside in the
corridor with Lieutenants Hollen and Telek, where each of them had been told to
sit down and await instructions. Dazed and confused, they complied without any
questions.

“DeLuca to Jaarid.”

“Jaarid here, Captain.”

“Our time just ran out, Commander. Austin
Kyle is here with the task force and they’re assuming formation around the Andromeda.”

“Thank you for letting us know, sir,” Jaarid said. “Doctor, keep working. I’m
going to try and acquire us more time.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ramsey said. “Perhaps two of us will be able to get
through to them.”

“Agreed.”

*****

“What is your status, Andromeda?” Commander
Austin Kyle said without preamble from the bridge of the U.S.S. Defiant as he appeared on the bridge
viewscreen.

“Commander, we’ve barely ten percent of my crew separated from the
muta-prions,” Ramsey reported. “Can you give us more time?”

Kyle shook his head. “Negative. Our orders were to begin immediate transport of
the infected to the Apgar as soon as
we arrived. They can handle the rest of the procedure. What about purging Andromeda’s systems?”

This time it was Jaarid who answered. “Unfortunately, the nerazuron didn’t
work. Dr. Killian has recommended we try again with a diluted form of
theragen.”

Kyle shook his head. “That’s too long. You have ten minutes to prepare
yourselves and your crews for transport to the Apgar. Keep the muta-Changeling in the transporter buffers and
discontinue separating the biosigns from the prions. Apgar’s top biohazard team will finish that task. I regret to say
that the U.S.S. Andromeda must be
destroyed.”

Jaarid and Ramsey looked to each other, then back at Kyle and nodded.
“Understood, Commander.”

With a curt nod, Kyle cut the connection.

Ramsey turned to Jaarid and held out his hand. “Commander, I can’t thank you
enough. You saved the lives of me and my crew.”

“Sir, I am sorry that I could not do more for you,” Jaarid said as he took the
proffered hand and the two men shook. “I cannot tell you how sorry that I am
about the way that this is turning out. I wish we could have saved your ship as
well.”

“It’s not your fault. And as much as I hate to say it, I even agree with the
reason they’re doing it.”

Jaarid nodded, and the two men quickly headed for the turbolift to prepare
their crews.

Eleven minutes later, after all biological readings had been cleared from the
ship, the Defiant and the Nemesis, with assistance from the Tortuga and the Messenger, opened fire upon their fellow Federation starship.

A minute after that, the Sovereign-class U.S.S. Andromeda was no more.

On
a monitor in a quarantine ward on the Virginia
Apgar, George Ramsey watched as his beloved ship was destroyed. When it was
over, he switched the monitor off, leaned against the wall beside it, and hung
his head in sorrow.

*****

U.S.S. Virginia Apgar, en route to Starbase 375

24 hours later…

“Am I cleared? I am the only one left and you walked in here without a hazard
suit on.”

Dr. Tir’Shaan of the Virginia Apgar
studied the PADD he held for another moment, then looked up at Jaarid.

“You are free from any signs of contamination, Commander,” Tir’Shaan told him.
“It does not appear that the muta-prions had any means of becoming airborne. Based
on our tests and the testimonies of your away team and the Andromeda crew, they could only travel via physical contact between
the host and the intended victim.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Jaarid said with a wan smile.

Just then the doors to the quarantine ward opened, and in stepped Captain
DeLuca and a Deltan female wearing four rank pins on a blue collar. Jaarid recalled
that she was the Apgar’s new captain, recently promoted to the job, but had
chosen to continue wearing the blue of her medical background, at least for the
time being.

“We were listening in observation,” Captain Alora Danon said, “and thought we
would take this opportunity to invite you to a briefing, Commander.”

The R’naari frowned slightly and looked between her and DeLuca. “A briefing on
what, may I ask?”

“On the muta-prions. A Starfleet Intelligence officer happened to be at Leytra
when the Apgar got the call to assist, and he interviewed the entity before it
was separated from its last host,” DeLuca informed him.

Jaarid’s eyebrows winged up. “Truly? Then by all means, Captain, lead the way.”

He hopped down off the biobed that he’d been sitting on, then paused and turned
back to the Lyafri physician. “That is, with your permission, Doctor?”

Tir’Shaan nodded. “You are free to go, Commander. And it is very pleasing to
see you again, Mr. DeLuca. May I offer you belated congratulations on your
promotion.”

Jaarid
watched as his captain smiled lightly. “Thanks, Doc,” he said. “Too bad Dr.
Nir’ahn’s not here—it would’ve been nice to see her again.”

Tir’Shaan
nodded. “I do not doubt that she would have liked to see you again as well,
Captain. She is on leave at home on Andor, and will be sorry to have missed
you.”

“Guess
we can’t always get what we want,” DeLuca said with a shrug.

Jaarid again offered his thanks to Tir’Shaan and followed the two captains out
of the ward.

*****

In the Apgar’s conference room were
seated the captains and first officers of the hospital ship, the Messenger, and the former Andromeda. Four admirals including
Alynna Necheyev, Tattok, and Elliott Haywood, as well as the director of
Starfleet Intelligence, were on the large viewscreen on the wall.

Standing at the end of the table, where Alora Danon would normally sit for
staff briefings, was a man wearing Starfleet Intelligence gray. He had no rank
pins on his collar, and the only name he had given them was Alok. Dominic
DeLuca observed that his ears had muted points suggesting Vulcanoid ancestry.

“You may begin now, Mr. Alok,” said Alynna Necheyev from the screen.

Alok nodded. “When we were down to just one host for the entity known as a
muta-Changeling,” he began, “I conducted an interrogation. At first the entity
refused to answer my questions, but then I believe its arrogance got the better
of it.”

“I thought it was some kind of bacteria that took us over like a virus?”
Captain Ramsey interrupted.

Alok looked at him for the briefest of moments with one eyebrow raised, then it
fell. “You are correct, Captain, to an extent. They were programmed to act like
a bacterial infection, one that was artificially engineered by the Founders as
a back-up plan for their galactic domination agenda. Unfortunately for the
Founders, however, they gained their own intelligence far too quickly. They…disagreed
with being controlled, so they rebelled.”

DeLuca, from his vantage point to Alok’s immediate right, watched with interest
as the muscles in his jaw flexed, as though he were grinding his teeth in
anger.

“In a manner similar to the hive mind of the Borg, the bacterial parasites—a more
accurate description for them—began to communicate with one another and
attempted to overthrow their creators. This happened in the medical laboratory
of an asteroid base in the Yodalt Belt. Knowing they had to abandon the plan
but reluctant to simply kill the parasites outright, the Dominion scientists
confined the prions to fourteen nodules of kesrinite and discarded them in
space.”

“Did the individual tell you why they weren’t simply destroyed?” asked the SI
director. “Certainly it couldn’t have been out of the goodness of the Founders’
hearts?”

“Indeed not, sir,” said Alok matter-of-factly, ignoring the sardonic tone of
the admiral’s voice. “The muta-Changeling said that the Founders were hoping to
one day revisit the project, but the war effort was, at the time, a priority
and the resources were thus redirected.”

Alok flicked his eyes her way. “In sufficient numbers, yes—but due to their
microscopic size, they needed a vast amount of organic material to… I hesitate
to say reproduce. Once the initial host was selected, all the prions would
congregate in that one person. They would then pass a few of their members from
the host to other victims, and after just a few minutes the person would be
absorbed by the original host entity. Once enough material had been collected,
they would then be able to divide the mass and operate separately to achieve
the same goal.”

“And the muta-Changeling was hell-bent for leather to get to DS9… why?” asked
Captain Ramsey.

“I’d be interested in that information as well,” said Starfleet’s
Commander-in-Chief.

“Messenger’s away team had it
partially correct in their initial summation, Admiral,” Alok said with a glance
at DeLuca and Jaarid. “Their primary goal was the wormhole, so that they could
get to the Gamma Quadrant and destroy the Founders.”

“Destroy the Founders? What was their reasoning, Mr. Alok?” queried the Roylan
admiral seated between the two Humans. This was the first time since the
briefing had started that Tattok had spoken.

“Revenge.”

A moment of silence passed as his audience absorbed that information. “The
muta-Changeling wanted to wipe out their creators for imprisoning them in the
kesrinite and dumping them in space,” Alok continued. “Then they would have
returned to the Alpha Quadrant and come at us, simply because it’s what they
were programmed to do.”

“It seems to me,” said DeLuca slowly, “that they wanted to create a whole new
Dominion.”

“Indeed, Captain DeLuca,” spoke up Admiral Haywood for the first time. “The
question remains, however, would they have conquered us or consumed us?”

“Fortunately, we will not have to face that scenario, Admiral,” Alok said, once
again in a succinct, matter-of-fact voice. “After the last Andromeda crew member was freed, the entity was executed as
ordered.”

DeLuca felt his eyes widen and he glanced sideways at his first officer.
Capital punishment was rarely, if ever, enforced in the Federation; individual
worlds were still permitted to carry out the action if it were a part of their
laws before they had gained membership, but he knew that most convicted
criminals were sent to penal colonies and rehabilitation centers. He honestly
couldn’t say that he’d ever heard of a sentient being having been executed
within the Federation in his lifetime, yet here was a man speaking about it as
if it were simply another thing on his to-do list.

He suppressed a shudder at that thought.

“Thank you for seeing to that difficult task, Mr. Alok,” the SI director was
saying. “I know it is not easy for a man to take the life of another sentient
being, even if the doing is justifiable.”

Alok’s expression was an unreadable mask as he replied, “I was following
orders, sir.”

Before anyone else could speak, Admiral Necheyev cleared her throat lightly and
said, “Thank you all for your diligence to duty. I wish we could have saved the
Andromeda as well, but the loss of
one Sovereign-class starship is acceptable when compared with the number of
lives that were at stake. Captain Ramsey, I am pleased your crew was spared.”

“If that is all, I believe this briefing is concluded,” the senior-most admiral
in the fleet said then.

Alok affirmed that he had told them everything, and the meeting broke up. Both
the Apgar and the Messenger were headed for Starbase 375,
where the former vessel would offload the Andromeda
crew and the latter would conduct repairs before delivering a cargo bay full of
prefab housing materials to one of the refugee colonies on the outer edge of
Cardassian space.

“Captain DeLuca, might I have a word with you?” Alok said as he and Jaarid were
exiting the conference room.

DeLuca stopped. “Yes, Mr. Alok?”

“I understand that your vessel is on its way to one of the Cardassian Union’s
border colonies,” he said.

DeLuca nodded slowly. “That’s right.”

“I am aware that repairs will take two weeks’ time, but I was hoping I might
persuade you to allow me passage on your ship,” Alok went on. “I have some
business in Cardassian space I must see to.”

He raised his brow in curiosity. “I’d be happy to help you, Alok, but are you
sure you wouldn’t rather take another ship? Surely there’s another that can get
you there sooner.”

“I can wait two weeks.”

DeLuca waited for him to elaborate further, and when he did not he simply nodded.
Intelligence officers, he mused, could be so damn cagey. Getting a straight
answer out of them was like trying to get milk out of a brick wall.

“Messenger would be happy to have
you, Alok. If you’re finished with your business on the Apgar, you can accompany Commander Jaarid and myself over there
now,” he told him.

Alok nodded. “I am ready to go, Captain.”

“Excellent,” he said then looked at the R’naari man next to him. “Jaarid, let’s
go home.”